


colors

by clearcoatt



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Chromesthesia, Colors, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, POV Second Person, Synesthesia, mentions of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearcoatt/pseuds/clearcoatt
Summary: This is a poetry collection, specifically surrounding the idea of colors. I have chromesthesia. In my brain, sound equals color, so I wrote poetry around it.
Kudos: 2





	1. beginning

the blood pumping through your veins is good. it gives you fire, it gives you your own drumbeat. you press play on the music, letting it fill your lungs and pump your heart and give your blood a moment to stop and say, _this is important_.


	2. white

white.

…

twirling through the air; the contrast is striking.

it creeps in on you from the atmosphere, biting winds cutting your arms to shreds.

you try and you try and you try to keep yourself clean, but the filth comes anyways.

empty arms, empty words, empty faces keep you pinned to the floor.

open your eyes against the wool and fight as hard as you can, even though it’s a losing battle.

you’re fading and you know it.

leave temporary handprints on the glass and scream for the sake of screaming.

_ “if this is gonna be the death of me, that’s how i wanna go.” _

all you have to do is leave it to the paper and the ink.

there’s an absence in you. an absence of what, i couldn’t say.

spirits circle the moon and there’s a haunted house in your eyes.

...

white. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda angsty, i adore playing with the idea that white is 'bad' and black is 'good' like the way it was portrayed in Egyptian mythology. it's also better than the alternative which is pretty racist. please leave a comment or kudos if you want, this is my first work on the archive :))))


	3. pink

pink.

…

subtle in the sunrise, subtle on the stones of the streets.

her cheeks in winter, chilled by the wind. it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

old shoes that your mother’s mother wore on her wedding day. it’s your turn, now.

a feather falls to the floor and rests, swaying back and forth in the evening breeze.

lips that whisper lies, lips that whisper stories, lips that whisper music.

rest your head, brother mine. let your shoulders sleep.

leave it to tomorrow, stay here for a night. please don’t keep me waiting.

a flush in your chest, a salve for your soul.

…

pink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love this one. it's so soft.


	4. red

red.

…

it’s in your hair, in your head, in your brain, in your soul.

it’s beating against your ribs, let them shatter, let them break apart and let it be free.

lipstick, hot and bleeding against your lips, on her neck, and then lower.

bite your lip, keep the fire inside. cook your organs till they’re crisp; it’s not time for you.

corral the stars, shape them into clumps just small enough to fit in his cupped hands.

bend your bones until they please the eye; keep your screams quiet.

keep steady now, child, your hands are shaking.

a dress on christmas eve meant to draw the eye; this is what power looks like.

wash the stains from your hands with the words in your head:  _ not mine, not mine, not mine. _

...

red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its so shrexy


	5. orange

orange.

…

marigolds in the summer air; warm and sweet enough to taste.

sharp juice explodes between your teeth. take a moment to breathe, _ remember to breathe. _

a child’s soccer jersey on a cool november morning, huddling beneath a blanket.

neon lights glare from behind smudged glass. keep walking, keep walking.

stained glass and sweet lips. it’s not enough, but it will be. 

leave your home behind and find that for which your soul has always yearned. 

close your eyes to the sun, take in the color. it’s not as hard as it seems.

don’t worry, all will come in good time. 

…

orange. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of my favorite poems i've ever written.


	6. yellow

yellow. 

…

sunlight is reflecting back from a glass mirror. it’s blinding.

look at the bees. they buzz and they buzz with no other purpose than to keep buzzing.

the tips of his shoes are painted gold. down the brick he walks.

one day you will wake up in the hive with your mouth full of honey; that is your home.

stare into the flames, take in their warmth. they are lost without you, as you are with them.

don’t succumb to darkness, and as pale as this seems it is still colorful, it is still strong.

this is the color of dependability, or reliance. one day you will be worthy of it.

your children’s children run around your legs as you tell them their story, the one in their veins. 

this is what you fought for. don’t let it slip away.

…

yellow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wonder if you can tell that Apollo is one of my patron Gods from this poem.
> 
> also one of my friends literally has shoes that he painted the tips of gold thats what that is based on


	7. gray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's kinda dark ngl

gray. 

…

a mist covers the mountains in the early morning light.

you’re darker, now. not quite as pure. whole and apart and in between.

a pair of tattered vans now constitute your oldest friends. 

age doesn’t do you well. you try to cover it up with artificial color, but it creeps in anyways.

you bite your nails. it’s a habit you never seemed to quit.

the smoke curls from between your teeth. it’s killing you, but you don’t mind.

freeze your lungs now, make it so they never have to work again.

what does it mean to look upon a ruin?

a tear runs down your face.  _ nothing, _ you whisper.  _ i feel nothing. _

burn it to the ground so everyone sees it as you do. it is ash, and nothing more.

don’t take too long, the train is leaving soon.

…

gray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i am posting them all on the same day. fight me


	8. green

green.

…

leaves soft against your arms; fall back and let go.

it’s still enough to hear a pin drop. the buzzing in your ears isn’t helping.

a grass stain on new jeans that you know won’t come out in the wash. 

bleached into oblivion over years of weather damage, beaten by the elements.

cool and icy against your tongue; rub it around a bit, let it sink in.

it might sting for a minute, but don’t let it keep you away. 

feel the bark against your fingers; you will be as strong one day.

if only you could stay here, waiting, and watch the world change around you.

you dye your hair as a sign of rebellion. this is your body, your skin; it’s not theirs to change.

throw off their hands and run in the opposite direction. it’s time for you, now.

…

green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i the only enby that doesnt actually like mother mother that much?? like i dont really see the appeal beyond wrecking ball. im personally more of a hozier person, as shown by my spotify wrapped. also i might want to dye my hair green. or blue. just some color other than fucking BROWN because i am tired of brown and i am BISEXUAL there are OTHER OPTIONS. holy heck.


	9. blue

blue. 

…

the sky at midday, not a cloud in sight.

standing on the beach with the sand beneath your toes, breathing in the salt.

crystal eyes, eyes that hold you there, keep you captive. those eyes’ll be the death of you.

mixed with green, mixed with pink, mixed with shattered dreams.

nails of an idol that stands with a microphone, screaming, and  _ gods _ , you need this.

the veins in your arms, trace them up, up, up, and slice them down one by one.

hair of a teenage boy, standing by the tracks. you can see his socks through his shoes.

a song that no one else seems to see quite the same way as you.

see the patterns in the smoke. 

a bird outside your window, showing you a new day, a new beginning, a new dream.

the lips of a wallflower, they whisper a ‘thank you’. the words don’t hurt like they should.

…

blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i adore this one. if you want the song i listened to while writing this go to collar full by panic! at the disco. it's more of a rainbow in parts but it has the Vibes, you know??


	10. purple

purple. 

…

petals as soft as feathers, floating in the air around your sheets.

let him rest, close the door behind you.

lose yourself in sleep.

what a small world this has become.

cool in the sunset sky, a contrail curves downward. 

the sky is never truly dark anymore; civilization, you suppose. you like it, though. it’s peaceful.

it’s the color of soft, the color of peace. the color of death.

pretty little clouds in the daybreak, reflecting the last shreds of darkness.

...

purple. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comfort by rusty clanton is a fucking masterpiece and you CANNOT convince me otherwise. this man is a fuckin wizard with his words. how did he encapsulate grief into a song?? i will never know. anyways here's wonderwall 
> 
> no shit i did listen to wonderwall while i wrote this


	11. black

black.  
…  
reclamation is a sweet revenge.  
darkness isn’t nothing, you argue. it’s everything.   
look up into the sky, see the forgotten souls. watch them dance.  
your bones ache, they ache for something beyond this chaotic vastness of space. let them.  
it is time for you to emerge from your cocoon, fully formed. it’s time for you.  
steady child, take it in. it’s the best thing you’ll ever see.   
step out in front of the crowd, bring yourself into the light. show them, for a minute, what god is.  
let those frozen ghosts fly out of your ribs, let them rest in the earth where they belong.  
everyone wants to be reminded that they can live through this. it’s your voice they listen to, now.  
your soul is dust in orbit around a greedy sun. it always has been, it always will be.  
bury your heart in a place worthy of remembering. a place worthy of rebirth.  
...  
black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this almost entirely about being trans? probably. do i care? no. will i show this to my parents as if i am not trans? already did. song rec? pulling leaves off of trees by wallows.


	12. brown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i'm sure this has been an emotional rollercoaster for those that made it this far. enjoy the end, my favorite poem of them all.

brown.

…

burnt apples float through the air. try again, try again.

take off your shoes, leave your socks behind. plant your toes in the soil and  _ grow. _

acoustic guitar strings clack beneath your nails.  _ this is important, _ you whisper.

the chipmunks scurry through the woods, to grandmother’s house they go.

the leaves crunch beneath your boots, brittle as the summer turns to fall turns to winter.

it melts in your mouth, saturating your taste buds till it’s all you can feel.

those boots, those lovely leather boots that keep you inches above everyone else.

90% of the population. it was practically scientific that she’d have those eyes.

leave the cardboard trains behind, but know that you have a place to call home.

an old blanket covers a small child in an alleyway. it used to be blue. 

the rocking chair creaks as you sway back and forth. you’re too tired to care.

the bricks are sharp beneath your hands. let them ground you.

feel the wood, know you are home. feel the stone, know you are strong.

…

brown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gently* yeehaw :))
> 
> work song by hozier.


End file.
